The shape paused. And then, a voice floated through the darkness, wet and rasping, neither male nor female. The sound echoed oddly, bouncing off the kitchen walls and sounding further away.
“Who’s there?”
Lilac booked it for the open door. Knowing that she could’ve, probably should’ve ran upstairs to the safe confines of her room, curiosity still consumed her. Grabbing the nearest torch from its bracket, she returned to the kitchen and thrust it into the dark—and gasped.
A large gray wolf stared back at her, frozen mid-step, with the top end of what seemed to be a burlap potato sack in its mouth.
Lilac swallowed her nausea. “Did you just—”
The wolf dropped the sack onto the stone floor and backed up until it bumped the far wall of the kitchen. “Don’t tell anyone,” the wolf pleaded, it’s raspy voice continuing to echo. “Please.”
Even with its mouth moving and hearing the sound it produced, Lilac couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Can you… understand me?” she whispered.
“Of course I can,” the wolf replied hesitantly. “Are you a witch or… or vampire, working here? Do they know?”
She had to be dreaming. She must have fallen asleep after her shower. “No, I’m not a—” she gulped. “I’m normal. I mean, human. And does who know what? How are you talking to me?”
The wolf licked its snout. “How are you talking to me?”
Sighing, Lilac gave into her wobbly knees and knelt on the cold stones. Now at eye level with the animal but a safe distance away, she began to realize what must be before her—the wolf wasn’t a wild wolf at all, but a shapeshifter in beast form.
Her pulse jumped erratically. All her life, she’d been taught by her parents and tutors that no Darkling could safely be trusted. That shapeshifters were such ravenous tricksters and scavengers, that they would unthinkingly kill a human on the spot. Yet, she was in the middle of having a conversation with one. One who seemed afraid more than anything. Lilac swallowed her terror like a thick spoonful of honey, heart thumping in fearful fascination.
“You didn’t attack me. And that’s not an invitation,” she added hastily.
“No. I… I’m here to take care of business.”
Lilac warily glanced at the burlap sack laying on the floor between them. “May I?”
The wolf took a hesitant half step forward as if to stop her, but Lilac was quicker. Inside the bag, a large slab of cured pork, three baguettes, and a pile of discarded chicken bones from dinner all jostled together. She dropped the sack and confusedly rubbed her brows with one hand, holding the torch in the other.
“I don’t understand.”
“Ma’am, I wanted to feed my children. That’s all.” Its voice wavered slightly. “My sons, they haven’t eaten in a few days. Please don’t say a word. I’ll give it back, you can take it. Please just let me go so I can get home to my babies.”
Lilac frowned. “Don’t you eat… rabbits? Or like, squirrels? Can’t you?”
The wolf coughed. It might’ve been a chuckle. “Well, I do. I’m trying to get my babies used to eating… hunted food, though I haven’t had much luck. Their guilt gets in the way, and they feel bad for the bunnies.”
At that, Lilac placed the torch in the rung above the hearth stove and took the sack. She went to the meat hooks and removed three more slabs, two lamb and one beef, dropping them one by one into the bag. Then, she turned to the counter on her right and used her hands to break off a portion of a cheese wheel off, dropping that into the bag as well.
Her mind was as busy as her hands, if not more. Her parents had always allowed the castle leftovers to be left for the Darklings. Was it not enough? If the shapeshifter was forced to risk everything by sneaking into the castle for food, how many others were suffering, too? Whatever responsibility her parents brushed off, Lilac was determined to take into her own small hands. Even the castle horses ate as well as she did.
So, why not the Darklings? Or at least the good ones, especially one as kind as this? How happy its family would be with this little haul.
“You take this,” she said under her breath to the wolf, who’d begun trembling. The animal’s amber eyes shone like wary embers in the wind, dancing in the flicker of torchlight across the room. “Please take this for yourself, for your family. For anyone it will feed.” She paused to listen—no sounds yet—then nodded decisively. “I’ll open the castle door, and if anyone asks, I’ll tell them I wanted to get some fresh air. You’ll have to run as fast as you can.”
“N-n-no, I can’t,” the wolf protested dubiously, eyes darting from Lilac to the bag in her hand. “I can’t. Please just let me go.”
The shapeshifter didn’t trust her, but she couldn’t dwell on it now—they’d have to hurry if they wanted to avoid being discovered.
Another idea suddenly occurred to Lilac. “Can you transform back? Into your human self? I’ll get you some clothes! Um…” Lilac wrung her hands on the neck of the sack. “Are you a girl?”
The wolf sat down. “Sweet girl, I am. My name is Freya. And if I turn back right now, I won’t have any clothes on at all, I’m afraid. I’m not sure which would frighten a witness more, a wolf or an unclothed woman.”
“J’y crois pas!!”
Lilac jumped up so fast she saw purple spots. The room was suddenly illuminated with firelight—her parents stood in in the doorway, a tearful Piper standing between them. The queen held her by the elbow, gripped her arm so tight that her nails dug into the girl’s skin. Lilac refused to look at their faces, but knew their expressions must have been horrific.
Immediately she turned to sprint out of the archway behind her and almost impaled herself onto a spear. Four guardsmen stood there, the spear tips pointed at her and the wolf, who had backed into the far corner.
“Were you speaking to that thing?” her mother shrieked. Her father shook his head uncomprehendingly, glancing at her like an unwelcome stranger.
Lilac opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
Face purple, the queen lunged at her, grasping her shoulders and shaking hard. “Answer me! How do you—how is th—” Her eyes rolled up to the ceiling and back into her head as she toppled to the floor.
From then on, everything seemed to move in slow motion—her father roaring for the servants to come revive the fainted queen, the guardsmen slipping a noose over the wolf’s head, while another dragged a kicking and screaming Lilac after them. Hedwig pressed against the wall, clutching her hair cap.
“My heavens,” she gasped as they passed her. “Lilac, what—”
With a single glare, King Henri quieted her. All Lilac could do was sob and avoid Hedwig’s gaze. The kind soul had always looked the other way when Lilac snuck into the kitchen for sweets or alcohol. Now, Lilac kept her head down and hoped Hedwig wouldn’t feel any sort of guilt. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Not anyone’s except her own.
Lilac fought the rough hands that gripped her, as she and Freya were led into the foyer and out the double doors. She screamed for her mother, for Hedwig, for anyone’s help when they dragged her out into the cold, across the stone bridge and onto the grass, where her father viciously pointed a finger at a lone tree stump, meters away from the tree line. She thrashed and bit and cried when the king ordered the guards to pin Freya to the stump. The guards who held Lilac didn’t force her to watch, but by the time she finally realized what would happen, she was unable to turn away even if she wanted.